An Introductory Course
by Dumbledoor
Summary: Just another day in college for Bella, right? Not when she finds a math textbook that solves all her problems! All human.
1. Paths and Cycles

Stephenie Meyer owns_ Twilight_.

It's been a while since my last fanfic. Hope you like it!

* * *

Paths and Cycles

This incessant fly is ruining the hell out of my night.

First of all, I was supposed to be done with Chapter 5 homework. Second of all, I was supposed to be _not_ sick.

The fly zooms around me again, and the moment I concede and give it some undeserved attention, it is nowhere in sight.

Fuck you, fly. It's late October. Why are you not yet hibernating?

"What is your problem?" I snap, glaring as I once again hear the buzzing noise make its way. It's having the time of its short life, and here I am failing to ignore all the whizzing and the figure eights in the air.

I look down at my work. I take in my set-up: lecture notebook where I take lecture notes, copy notebook where I rewrite the more difficult parts of lecture, and the homework notebook.

The slightly used textbook sits in front of me, closed, with a pencil sticking out of the page I'd marked.

I sigh. What a way to spend Thursday night.

When my friend Alice had mentioned taking a course on Graph Theory, I was interested. I needed some math credits, and it seemed easy enough. It was about dots and lines, she said. Much simpler than calculus and the like.

What she failed to say was that she was a math prodigy of sorts, so math came really easy for her.

(Alice graduated and moved to California before I could give her a piece of my mind. It was for the best, I guess, because right now I needed all the pieces of the mind I had to finish this homework.)

I was lucky there was still one copy of the book at the school's bookstore in the middle of the semester. It cost fifty bucks, and it was the current edition. Bargain.

Of course, if the class _had_ been the easy A that I'd expected, I wouldn't have had to buy the thing in the first place. But oh well.

I open the book. Page 207. Wrong page marked. The exercise problems are on 208.

Whoa.

I shit you not. There are writings upon writings upon writings on the pages. Some in black ink, some in various other colors.

"What the hell..." I say in awe. The small, scribbled writing is _neat_. Do my eyes deceive me, but has the previous owner really done _all the exercise_ problems?

This was a sign. A gift from the Gods. I was the chosen one. Harry Potter in _the Half-Blood Prince_.

My phone vibrates once, jolting me from my elation. It was Mike. _Hey what's up_.

I ignore it.

Back to the book. I rifle through it, realizing that not only does this book have most of the answers written in detail (the textbook _did_ have uncharacteristically large white space), but there were inserted comments and explanations on the theorems in the chapters.

"Proofs woes begone!" I whisper to myself.

I looked at the front cover and the title pages, expecting something to identify the previous owner. But no. It was anonymous.

Well...

I take my pen out from my backpack. On the space behind the front cover, I write, in Sharpie Pen, _Property of Isabella Swan_.

* * *

_A few weeks later_

"That's impossible," says Eric. "I thought you got a 71 last midterm."

"I did," I say, proudly. The second midterm is currently in my backpack, but I can still feel its golden rays radiating on me. Apparently, Eric feels it too.

"How'd you do it?"

"I just... studied."

I grin, and I grin more because Eric is clearly jealous. Seriously, the guy's been so cocky in class, it felt nice to beat him at a test. It also didn't hurt that he'd been the valedictorian in my high school.


	2. Trees and Connectivity

Trees and Connectivity

Of course, the good luck had to run out sometime. It happened when I was studying for the last quiz of the semester, late November. I decided to go to the library.

Serves me right for avoiding my roommate.

So I was in the library, getting my study mode on. I had a cup of coffee prior, already absorbing all the wonderful writing the book had.

Then, because I was human, I had to go pee. The Cafe Americana would not dispose of itself. So I stood and went, leaving the book wide open for the whole world to see.

I guess you can tell where this is going.

I did my business, walked back, and saw a curious sight.

This gorgeous, tall man was absolutely flipping through the pages of my textbook. He had a shocked expression on his beautiful face.

"Um, excuse me," I said when I was right in front of him.

"Where did you get this?" he said, quite rudely. He snatched it up and my heart dropped to my stomach.

"I bought it." I didn't know whether to grab my textbook back from him. I didn't even know how to go about doing it, because he looked pretty strong.

"It's mine," he said, holding it against his chest. My heart, already in my stomach, seemed to lodge itself deeper down my intestines.

"No, no, I bought it," I insisted. I walked toward him and he walked backwards, keeping the distance between us.

"But it's _mine_."

"You sold it."

"No. I didn't. It was stolen from me."

"But I _need _it."

"It's cheating."

I felt myself panicking. I could not—would not—go through finals without the aid of this book. Keeping my voice to a harsh whisper, I tried, "I'm not! It's not any different from asking the professor for help, you know."

"It has all the answers to the homework problems."

"I bought it! I'll give it back at the end of the semester!"

"I'll buy you a new one," he said, simply.

"Why do you want it? You already took the class!"

"It's not about that. It's _mine_. I worked hard on this. You shouldn't have to get an A just because I did all the work."

And with that, he walked away. I tried not to yell because we were at the library.

I hastily packed up my stuff and ran after him. Other kids gave a curious glance as I strutted past rows and rows of desks, heading for Mr. Selfish.

He was in the middle of zipping up his messenger back (already encasing _my_ beloved texbook!) when I caught up to him.

"Listen, here, bud," I said sharply, "I need that book."

He looked at me blankly. "Not my problem."

I sputtered. I regained myself, getting a bit self-conscious. The outrage had died down now, and I was starting to admit defeat.

"Well, are you at least going to buy me the book now? I have to do my homework, you know. Or were you not even going to do that after practically taking my text book?"

His nostrils flared, and I knew he really wasn't going to do as he'd said about buying me my textbook.

No way was I paying _twice_ for a textbook in a class that wasn't even part of my major curriculum. No effing way.

"Fine. Let's go." With an exaggerated arm wave (like one an incredulous gentleman or a very hesitant suitor might do), he lead me out of the library.

The air was getting cooler and cooler. It was late in the evening, maybe around 4 pm, and most students were still in class.

It was a nice chilly day.

We had about a ten-minute walk to the nearest bookstore. The first two minutes were uncomfortable, but I was determined to get a textbook. I didn't do anything wrong!

Neither did he, technically, but that's not the point.

We arrived at the school bookstore. Edward briskly walked up to the counter. A young girl was operating the register.

"Excuse me. I need to buy—"

"Oh, hello. How are you? My name's Tanya."

"Yeah. We need to buy a textbook..."

"And your name?" she asked.

He looked at me, confused. I shrugged.

"Edward," he said slowly. "Cullen."

I was half-expecting Tanya to type it to her computer on the register, but she just took it with a smile.

"Hi, Edward! So, what can I do for you?"

Oh, she was being friendly.

Edward looked close to fuming. "Graph and Number Theory, sixth edition. Please."

Tanya typed up on her keyboard.

After a minute, she looked up. "Sorry, we don't have that in stock. We sold our last copy way back in September."

"Oh," I said, surprised because that was most likely me. I forgot that had been the last copy.

"Can't you order one anyway?" I said.

"Yes, we could, it'll come in 3-5 days. Would you like me to order it for you?" She was looking back and forth between Edward Cullen and me.

"Yes," said Edward. He then proceeded to give her his credit card for the purchase.

The transaction completed, we exited the bookstore.

"So," I said. "Can I borrow your book?"

"What? No."

"Just until mine comes. You heard her. Three to five days."

"Didn't you already finish your homework?"

"I know you think all I did was copy off of your work," I said. "But I actually try to do it at first. It's hard with all the writing beside it, but I manage. We do have quizzes every day in recitation."

"Yeah, I remember."

"So? Let me borrow it! Two days. Three tops."

"Yeah, OK. Fine. But give me your number." Then after a while he added, "And where you live."

"No way. You don't just give out your addresses to people." He seemed like a perfectly smart young man. But he also seemed like a slightly neurotic and controlling smart man. And that tended to equate to a certain madness I did not want to deal with.

In the end, we exchanged phone numbers and emails.

* * *

It was a day later when I got my first text from Edward Cullen. I was in the middle of class.

_Hey it's Edward. I wanted to say sorry for being such an ass about the book._

Because I had an iPhone, and he did too, I was able to see the three dots signifying that he was still typing. I waited several seconds.

_I guess I kind of freaked. I was really pissed when I lost that book._

_You're probably saying, it's just a textbook. But I like math. Like, really like math._

I decided to text back. _It's ok, I'm just glad to have a textbook to use._

He replied: _Thanks Bella. And really if you need any help with the class, I'll be willing to help._

I didn't say anything after that.

* * *

Later that night I got another message from Edward.

_Doing homework?_

The text was so innocent. I immediately felt flattered and silly.

I took out my phone and typed: _Yeah, graph hw again. This prof is tough._

I put down the phone, pretending to be busy. I lasted one minute.

_Banner?_, he typed, meaning my professor.

_Yup._

We texted back and forth some more, mostly him asking questions about my major and interests.

_Can I add you on facebook?_ he asked.

Of course, I'd already looked him up. And, I'm not being vain here, but I think it was safe to say he probably did the same to me.

_Are we friends now_?

_Yup._

_So do I get to copy from your textbook? _

_Nope ;)_

My eyes widened.

That wink. What was that for? Was he kidding me?

We continued to text some more.

That wink. It cost me approximately 2 hours of sleep thinking about that textual wink. Damn that emoticon.


	3. Algorithm

Algorithm

_Today_

And now we're back. Today is Day 4 of borrowing time, which means it is time to return the reason for my solid A (so far; there's still the final remaining).

I walk to the cafe where we'd decided to meet. He is already by the door, waiting.

Now, with a calm demeanor and the cool morning, I note that Edward is incredibly handsome. Dashing. He has this adorable messy hairstyle. He's dressed nicely, too. But I guess most grad students learn to dress smart casual after spending years at college.

He waves and then smiles at me. I stand beside him, making sure to be out of people's way as they enter and exit the place. It was still before ten, so the wind was particularly cold, and the cafe a little busy.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say back.

There is a second of silence, and then I retrieve the book from my backpack.

"Here you go."

"Thanks." He puts it in his messenger bag.

I try not to look so affected.

"Do you wanna get coffee?" he says suddenly.

His smile is friendly. Disarming.

"Oh, uh, sure," I say, following him inside.

* * *

He offers to pay for my drink, but I say no, he's already bought me a textbook, coffee I can deal with on my own. We find a table and settle ourselves.

This feels like a date.

I am freaking out a little. He's an attractive grad student. I'm just an undergrad, totally regular.

He's still smiling, and he's _staring_. I notice the crinkle in his eyes seems... forced. Can he be just a little bit nervous, like me?

I give a nervous laugh. "So..."

He laughs almost the same time as I do. "So," he replies, the same inflection in his smooth voice.

We try again.

"So how long did it take?" I ask. He tilts his head, and I think the action is charming and _very_ cute. "To write all that stuff in the book, I mean. It must've taken ages."

"Oh. That." He laughs again, and this time he scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, as you can probably tell, I'm a bit obsessed with graph theory."

"_Just_ graph theory?"

He smirks. "No, not _just_ graph theory. But I do want to specialize in combinatorics. I'm doing research on patterns—pattern avoidance, to be particular."

What the heck is he talking about...

He's still going on about theories and bijections and I hold a hand up. The boy is now blushing to his ears.

"Edward?"

"I'm rambling aren't I," he says, sheepish.

"I'm sure it's all interesting, but you are talking to the girl who's needed the help of your book to get through class."

He chuckles. "Thank you for stopping me though. You've no idea how many times this has happened."

"People stopping you?"

"No, people letting me go on and on about my work. I do that when I get nervous."

"You're nervous?" I say.

I hope he says something like his inadequacy in asking girls out for coffee.

"You're really pretty," he says.

_That_'s surprising.

"Wow," I say, super flustered now. I must've laughed or something, because he too laughs.

_Bella, why are you so awkward._

"Yeah, so," he says. "I'm... just, uh—"

"Yeah?"

He groans, frustrated. He covers his eyes with one hand. "I am a dork."

"You're a lot smoother over text."

"Because it doesn't involve looking at your face." He peeks at me in between his fingers. "But I like looking at your face. Will you go out with me, Bella Swan?"

"Will you let me borrow your book sometime?" I tease. Edward slides his hand off his face, now at ease.

He grins. "Of course. Only for you, though." He winks.

Holy hell he just winked at me. He must never know how crazy I get with a wink.

"Well I can't say no to that," I admit.

"Then don't."

"I'm not."

"Say yes?"

I smile. "Yes."

The end


End file.
